Sunlight
by Out of Options
Summary: The Companions run an underground railway to rescue vulnerable women. Firefly accepts a runaway but how vulnerable is she really?


Chapter 1

Mal Reynolds considered it a good day if he hadn't been chased, shot at, or double-crossed. Recently he had managed a whole succession of good days – a run of decently paid engagements moving honest beings (for a given value of honest) and legitimate goods (provided you didn't try to peel off the brand-new labels). Best of all, the Alliance seemed to have forgotten all about them.

Given the givens, it was no wonder that he was getting a little antsy. Which is why, when a heavily veiled woman with a whole mess of crates and baggage turned up in his loading bay demanding to speak to his Companion, he barely felt the need to raise an eyebrow.

Inara hadn't mentioned that she had an assignation - and she almost always did, even if she didn't need to. At first, he'd thought that this was simply to rub his face in the fact that she was the only one of them bringing in any decent money. Lately he'd come around to thinking that there might be something else going on. He hardly dared to venture a guess as to what that was. His own feelings he kept on a tight rein.

Between Inara, the newly blossoming Kaylee, and River - who he found awakened both his fatherly and coward's instincts - he was beginning to wonder whether his historic rapport with the ladies had been nothing more than beginner's luck.

If only they could all be like Zoë. His Second in Command was one hell of a soldier and she didn't mince her words none either. A man always knew where he was with her - even if that meant on his back in the dirt looking up the twin barrels of her favourite gun.

Her husband Wash was a lucky man and, thank heaven for small mercies, he knew it too. Good pilots were hard to come by and it would have been a shame to have to kill him.

The woman in front of him was slender, bordering on frail, and favoured dark colours – a widow perhaps, he thought – but through the thick veil that was all he could determine.

'Have you contracted with her, mam?' He asked. 'Cos we are about to take off and your money might be better spent elsewhere.'

'Why no', she responded primly. 'I have not concluded a contract with your honoured Companion. Nevertheless, I believe that she is expecting me.'

She had old-world manners and her accent was educated but with an outer belt twang which told Mal three things: she was wealthy, she was local, and she was trouble. He gave an imperceptible sigh as he recognised that his run of good luck was at an end.

'Might I tell her who is enquiring for her?' he asked with rather forced politeness, but the mystery lady declined to give her details.

'Captain, I would prefer not to give my name, nor show my face to you, until we have breached this planet's atmosphere. I realise that this may be a troubling request. However, I believe that you will surely be prepared to take your Companion's word that I am a suitable passenger who is more than capable of paying her way.'

Mal smiled but inside his eyes were rolling out of their sockets. He wondered whether it would be better to just shoot himself now. If only that were the gentlemanly thing to do!

'Jayne!' He bellowed instead. 'Tell our honoured Companion that she has a visitor. No name provided.'

Jayne slouched though the door, lips twisted into the sneer he habitually wore when being required to do such menial work. The presence of the black-veiled woman barely gave him pause. He looked her up and down then, finding nothing particularly interesting about her, he shrugged.

'Even a woman like Inara ain't gonna be able to give satisfaction in the few minutes we got available.' He turned to Mal. 'Ain't you told her she's wasting her money?'

'I gave you an order, Jayne'. Mal replied, throwing the other man a sour glance. Oblivious to the atmosphere as always, Jayne gave an insouciant shrug and sauntered off about his task.

A scant handful of minutes later an immaculately dressed and coiffed Inara Serra sashayed through the passenger door of the cargo bay. With a nod to Mal and a single elegant gesture back towards her cabin she invited the black clad woman to join her.

Released from the presence of onlookers, Mal gave way to his frustrations.

'So, I'll just wait here then', he growled. 'Amongst all these boxes. Not knowing whether to board 'em or not. Ain't like it's my ship or anything!'

'She smelt of sunlight and I could lick the oranges off her hair.' River whispered in his ear, causing him to jump in a totally uncaptainly way. He turned around but she was already gone, like a whisper in the void. That girl would be the death of him, he was certain of it.

Inara kept her council until she reached her shuttle but the moment the door was shut and locked, she felt free to vent herself.

'This is a highly unusual request! The existence of the Railroad is a closely guarded secret. It is only activated by a Companion when they learn that a woman close to a blacklisted male is in danger. Yet no Companion has visited this planet in 20 years. Please explain yourself.'

The veiled figure did not bow before the onslaught. Rather she drew herself to her full height and raised her chin below the veil.

'I did not mean to break any confidences', she said softly. 'My mother was a Companion. She… left… the organisation in her youth and later married my father. It was she who taught me about how to call on the Companion Railroad.'

'Strip', Inara Serra said. 'Remove every stitch and place it into this bag.' She held up a metal coated sack capable of blocking any wireless transmission. 'Then turn around… slowly.'

Inara relaxed in her armchair as the unknown woman slowly removed her layers of silk that she was swathed in. Finally, the woman – or girl, really - was stood there naked, slight and frail with middling brown hair and nondescript hazel eyes. Inara reviewed the woman closely as she pirouetted in front of her, but she saw nothing her that spoke of any of the Order's recusant sisters. Perhaps she took after her father in looks? Inara thought.

Under the terms of the Railroad, every Companion was primed to defend a sister, the direct descendant of a sister, or the female dependent of an abusive contracting male. There were no signs of abuse in this plaintiff woman and the only thing that spoke of Companion lineage was the grace with which she spoke and moved. But was an elegant turn of phrase, and being perfectly confident whilst naked, sufficient to trigger the terms of the Companion's most ancient and sacred code? It was a heavy commitment which, in extremis, included a mutual death pact, and was therefore not to be invoked lightly. Uncertain, she gestured to the woman to dress.

Inara had to know more.


End file.
